


Chemistry

by cheshirewritesagain2402



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autistic!Victor, Chemistry, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Older!Victor, One Shot, stripclub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirewritesagain2402/pseuds/cheshirewritesagain2402
Summary: Victor Trevor hates socialising and generally everything that doesn’t involve him, his books, his work and his cat.Until he is forced to attend a stag-do at a strip club.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor
Kudos: 5





	Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing needs way more love <3  
> Just a little thing I wrote to inspire myself.  
> x C.

Victor pushed the thick-framed glasses higher up his nose. His eyes shifted nervously from one place to the other, not really seeing anything but trying to escape.

Victor was one of the most renowned Chemists in the whole world, and yet he hated to be visible. Everyone vaguely familiar with the industry knew his name, but no one his face. He hated having his picture taken, and very rarely gave public speeches (if he did then he was very nervous and would only speak to a selected amount of people which would never exceed ten).

Victor hated socialising of any kind. He was outright terrified of it. He was even worse at talking to strangers. He was placed somewhere on the spectrum closer to autism than anything else but he had never agreed with this labelling. Why did people need to label him? Why couldn’t he just be himself, without anyone assuming or asking if he was on the spectrum? 

People very often presumed Victor dumb because his social skills were that bad, but he was, in fact, really smart. His IQ was 132, which made him practically a genius, but he was no Asperger, according to experts. But what did they know about him anyways.

Currently, Victor was waiting at the entrance to a strip club, waiting to be let in. Never, not even in his worst nightmares, Victor would have thought of going to such an establishment (any estabishment with lots of people present really), but it was his co-worker’s stag-do and he had invited Victor along. They all had pestered him until he had agreed to come. Victor wasn’t sure why they wanted him there. He was not friends with them. Maybe they just wanted a laugh at his expense, who knew. Anyways, he would try to disappear after the obligatory drink with the soon-to-be groom.

His colleagues paid the entrance fee for all of them and they were let into the dimly lit and a little too loud room. It was pretty, full of glittering lights and beautiful dancers, male and female, on different stages, but Victor just wished he could disappear.

His colleagues said something to him but he couldn’t understand them, so he just nodded. It really was way too loud in here.

Soon after a drink was pressed into the Chemist’s hand and they made their way to some comfortable chairs close to a stage with a pretty lady on it. She was dancing quite lascivously, sending glances their way and smiling, but Victor couldn’t care less. He was busy sipping his drink so he would be able to get the hell out of here. Sooner rather than later.

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

“Sherlock.”, Mycroft called out his brother’s name again. 

The raven-haired boy, although he didn’t see himself as a boy anymore, he was 18 after all, looked away from the group of men that had just entered the club. There was a blonde guy with glasses amidst them, his hair messy and slightly too long, who seemed completely out of place. He appeared to be more than uncomfortable being here. But he was cute.

Sherlock looked at his brother, who was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink.

“You’re getting paid for working, not for staring.”, he teased his younger brother.

Sherlock glared at him.

“You’re not working either.”

“Well, the club does belong to me, so I chose to have others work for me, little brother. Maybe in a few years you’ll be able to do the same.”

“I know that you prefer to sit on your bum all day, but I’m more the hands-on type.”

They both knew that the bar was just a... hobby of Mycroft’s, who enjoyed to look at pretty things in his rare time off.

Sherlock grinned at his brother, but his eyes wandered again over to the blonde guy, who was just settling himself down with the group of men he had arrived with.

“Who is he?”, Sherlock asked, nodding towards the stranger.

Mycroft turned his head ever so slightly.

“Clearly new here. But he looks familiar.”

Sherlock put the glass in his hand down, starting to mix up a cocktail.

“With all your knowledge and control over Britain I’m shocked that you don’t know.”

Now it was Mycroft’s turn to glare at Sherlock.

“I do not control Britain, brother.“

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Mycroft took out his phone, typing a few quick messages.

“Are you interested in him?”

Sherlock looked up at the stranger once more. 

“Maybe.”

Mycroft hummed.

Another bar tender, Chris, moved beside Sherlock, grabbing a bottle of vodka.

Sherlock moved aside while closing his shaker and mixing the cocktail.

“Your entire rent paid this month if you go over and give him a lapdance.”, Mycroft suddenly said. 

Chris burst out into laughter and Sherlock nearly dropped the shaker.

Mycroft smiled smugly.

“You’re making the cocktail for him, brother. You’re looking for an excuse to talk to him. Pretend you’re a stripper.”

Sherlock frowned slightly at his brother. The elder Holmes didn’t do bets like this. He would never dare him into something like that with a stranger.

The younger’s eyes narrowed.

“Who is he?”

Mycroft grinned.

“What can you tell me about him?”

Sherlock poured the cocktail into a fancy glass before decorating it with edible glitter and a straw.

“I’m not close enough.“

“Observe, little brother, come on.”

Sherlock’s gaze lifted and he took the cocktail.

“I will.”

Then he sauntered off towards the man.

Sherlock wasn’t shy, it wasn’t in his nature, but he was careful. He didn’t get involved with people because it would cause unnecessary drama, and he hated drama as much as he hated feelings. Useless chemicals produced by your brain that just hindered proper thinking.

He had found people, well, men, attractive before, but he had never acted upon it. A part of him wondered what sex and the resulting closeness and intimacy would be like, but he had never been fascinated enough with someone to go through with it. Mostly because people bored him the moment they opened their mouth.

Sherlock came to stand beside the man. His companions were busy cheering at the girl on stage, but he was focused on his drink, nursing it with such revoltion, that Sherlock had felt pity for him.

“Here.”, he shouted over the music, extending the cocktail towards the stranger, waiting for him to look up.

And he did. Kind of. His eyes never went any higher than Sherlock’s collar bone and jumped from there to the offered drink and back.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying this drink much, so I figured you’d like this better.”

The stranger mumbled something that could have been a thanks, and took the cocktail with his free hand. Now he had the issue that he was holding two glasses and he looked between them, not sure what to do with either.

Sherlock took the old drink from the man’s hand, moving it to a table behind them. Then he sat down on the armrest of the chair the man was currently sitting in.

The stranger seemed to recoil at the bold movement, scooting close to the other armrest, keeping his gaze low. The cocktail was still in his hand, his arm at a weird angle. 

Sherlock smiled. Somehow this guy was adorable. And quite a bit older than him. He had two cats, obviously, long haired ones. Sherlock adored cats. 

Clearly he was working in a laboratory, something with chemicals, according to the burns on his hands and the slight, not yet faded intentations on his temples from his lab goggles, which he wore over his actual glasses, to protect his eyes.

He was uncomfortable, but one needn’t be Sherlock to see that plain as day.

Apart from that, there was... nothing. No issues, apart from the nervous around people part, no girlfriend or boyfriend, no messed up relationship. He wasn’t looking at any of the strippers, so he might be asexual but Sherlock couldn’t be sure about it as he was just so shy.

“So, you’re not interested in the strippers?”, Sherlock tried to start a conversation.

The man still evaded his gaze.

“N-no.”, he stammered out and, for seemingly the lack of something better to do, he took a sip from his straw... only to look up at Sherlock in surprise, their eyes meeting for the fraction of a second.

“T-this... is g-good. Really g-good. P-peach is my... favourite.“

The stranger clearly seemed mortified by his stuttering, which made him stutter even more and blush a light shade of pink. 

“I know.”

Sherlock didn’t know. It had been a lucky guess. But he had known that the man would prefer something fruity, yet not sweet, by the way he had sipped his previous drink.

The stranger looked up again but not as high as he had before in order not to meet Sherlock’s eyes.

Sherlock grinned.

“I saw how disgusted you were by the drink your colleagues gave you, so I decided to make something more... refreshing and more to your liking.”

The man mumbled again something akin to a thanks. 

Sherlock was really intrigued by the man now. No chance that he would leave him alone without having gotten his number. 

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

Mycroft turned back to Chris, smiling into his drink.  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow at his boss.

“Why did you set Sherlock on him?”

Mycroft chuckled.

“He might be good for someone like Sherlock.”

Chris frowned. “How come?”

“He’s a well-renowned Chemist.”, Mycroft clarified. “I know him personally as I have worked with him before in some... delicate matters, on which he has been consulting.”

Chris whistled under his breath.

“Not a bad move. So that’s why Curly’s working tonight.”

Mycroft grinned and lifted his hands to convey his innocence.

Chris laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t let him find out.”

“He is too far gone to back out. Besides, Mr Trevor didn’t know either so they were both more or less set up.”

Mycroft turned slightly sideways to have a look at the two men from the corner of his eye. 

Chris was watching them openly, not that they would notice anyways.

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

Sherlock brushed a stray curl behind his ear.

“...so that’s why I work here. But less again when I go back to university.”

Sherlock had just been babbling for about five minutes straight, not even looking at the stranger, but it had helped a little. The man didn’t appear to be that nervous anymore and had even shifted a little closer, so he could hear Sherlock’s voice over the loud music. He was sipping his cocktail, still fidgeting from time to time, but not as badly as he had before.

“You study?”, the man asked quietly.

Sherlock nodded, deliberately keeping his gaze on the floor in front of him.

“Chemistry. I was accepted two years early, because I skipped classes when I was younger. But I’m not sure I want to do that eventually. I want something related to it though. Some kind of investigator maybe. I’m good at deducing things too.”

Sherlock flashed a small grin in Victor’s direction but was careful not to look into his face.

“But obviously I like Chemists.”, the younger went on, not wanting to put the man off and make him think he wouldn’t find him interesting. “I read all of the important books already. My favourite is Alfred Nobel. But I also like some of the modern ones, like have you heard of Peter Gerling? Or Victor Trevor? They are brilliant. Especially Trevor’s work.”

The man was suddenly a little more fidgety again and Sherlock turned his head to look at him. He looked slightly embarrassed now, busying himself with sipping on his cocktail (which was very endearing, by the way).

And suddenly Sherlock realised why. He turned fully towards the man, his eyes shining.

“You know him, don’t you? You know Victor Trevor.”

The man coughed into his straw, almost choking.

“You do know him. I knew it. What is he like? Can you introduce us? I would love to meet him. He’s been my idol since I have found out about chemistry. He was the first author I read a Chemistry textbook from. My brother Mycroft gave it to me for my twelfth birthday. He is a genius. He was so young when he started his career. I even...”

Sherlock blushed and trailed off. Well, there was no need for the stranger to know everything, was there? He already seemed uncomfortable enough.

“But seriously.”, Sherlock started once more. “If you could arrange a meeting...?”

The man looked at Sherlock’s shirt, his cheeks flushed, his cocktail almost empty.

Sherlock smiled and took the glass from him.

“You know, since I work here, I could give you a lapdance, if you’d like?”, he purred into the stranger’s ear. 

The man beside him stiffened, as if he wasn’t sure what to do or say now. Or no, scratch that. Judging by his character, he definitely wasn’t sure. 

Sherlock slowly stood and moved closer, lowering himself into the man’s lap.

The stranger desperately tried to look away from the young man in his lap, his hands pressed to the armrests.

Sherlock frowned.

“But you do find me attractive, don’t you?”

The man hesitated and then gave one sharp nod.

“I can move off you again. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped. I thought you’d want it.”

The stranger’s eyes snapped up to meet his for a few seconds, longer this time, and his lips opened as if he was going to say something, but in just this moment one of his colleagues spoke up.

“Look at you, Trevor. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

Victor found the young man extremely attractive. And if Victor thought that it really meant something, because he usually couldn’t care less about such matters.

Victor had never seen the purpose of being in a relationship. That was the offical excuse. Unofficially he had always been too shy, too awkward with people for someone to ever consider him as a potential partner. So Victor had gotten a cat. It was his everything and very spoilt. 

The young man beside him appeared to be quite chatty, but Victor didn’t mind. This way he just had to listen. The younger would find out that he was extremely boring soon enough.

Besides, what was Victor thinking. He was way too old for the dark haired man. He was 37 and the other could be no older than, well, 18 if you believed what he had said about university.

The fact that the younger was actually studying Chemistry made Victor hope a little that he might not be as boring for the younger as he had thought in the first place, but then you never knew. 

But... was he flirting with him? Or was he just being polite? This question answered itself when the younger positioned himself on Victor’s lap. The Chemist could only pray that he would not get aroused in this very moment, as this would have been really embarrassing. Well, more embarrassing than the whole situation already was. 

When Victor looked at the young man for the first time, really looked at him, looked into his eyes, he was stunned at how beautiful he actually was. And he was here in his lap. And he was about to go away again because he thought that Victor didn’t like it. 

And then his idiot of a colleague had to make a stupid comment. And that was it. Now the cat was out of the bag. Now the younger knew who he was.

Ignoring his colleague, he looked back at the young man in his lap, who had frozen at the mention of Victor’s last name.

The Chemist forced himself to keep looking at the younger’s face for a moment, before his gaze drifted down to the dark haired’s collar bone again, his cheeks burning. 

“I... uhm...”

“You’re Victor Trevor.”, the younger breathed, almost too quiet to be heard over the music.

Victor nodded.

Yes, the young man had said that he adored him, but that wouldn’t last much longer if he saw how boring and awkward he really was.

“I’m Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.”, the dark haired introduced himself, holding out his hand. “It’s so great to meet you.“

Victor, a little awkwardly because of the position they were currently in, shook his hand. 

The last name rang a bell. Lately, Victor had been doing some super secret consulting for the MI6, who had requested his help. Noone had mentioned that he had been there, naturally, as it was forbidden to even think about what he had been doing there. He had only met a few people there, Mycroft Holmes having been one of them. 

“Holmes? S-so you know Mycroft?”, Victor asked. It was a very common name in England, he guessed, but this was way too much of a coincidence.

“He’s my brother. The one I mentioned who owns this place?”

Victor looked up at Sherlock.

“He owns a strip club?”

“For fun.“ Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Likes to show off pretty things.”

Victor’s gaze softened and he could have said something ridiculously romantic, which he obviously didn’t. But he could have. 

Sherlock turned, still in Victor’s lap, and threw a gaze over at the bar.

“He set us up, this bastard.”

Victor frowned.

Sherlock turned back, his eyes glowing.

“He set us up. He asked me to work today. It was supposed to be my day off. And your friends-“

Victor shook his head.

“Colleagues asked you here today. Do they normally do that?”

Victor thought about it. It had been strange that they had asked him to come. They normally didn’t as they knew that he didn’t like to go out and socialise.

“He wanted us to meet.“

“H-he could have introduced us.”

“He probably thought it would be more fun like this.“

Victor tried to fidget, he did that when he was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t because Sherlock’s weight was still on his legs. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He was still attracted to the young man, but he didn’t know how who he was changed the situation.

“Do you still want that lapdance, Mr Trevor?”, Sherlock tried to save the situation. He was clearly a little uncomfortable now and tried to brush it off as a joke. It was up to Victor now to decide and take the chance. If that wasn’t so hard. He lowered his gaze to his lap. His hands moved as if to touch Sherlock’s hips, then stopped and recoiled, before they moved forward again.

Just touch him. Come on.

He forced his hands to stop shaking. 

You can do this.

Slowly he moved them forward and placed them on Sherlock’s hips. Gently. And he fought the reflex to pull back. It was okay. Sherlock was sitting on his lap. He was okay with being touched.

“Y-yes.”, he forced out in a shaky voice. “A-and c-call me Victor.”

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

Admittedly, Sherlock was a little annoyed that he had missed the fact that he was actually talking to the Victor Trevor, but then again, what were the odds of actually meeting the man? 

Now he was a little nervous. He was in the lap of the only human being that he had ever found sexually exciting. Yes, Sherlock hadn’t known what he looked like, but he had gotten off to his textbooks. Now that might sound a little strange, which was why he hadn’t mentioned it before (and now he was grateful for that!) but he had never claimed to be an entirely sane person. 

And now. Now Victor Trevor’s (OMG fangirling big time here!! - and Sherlock was never like this) hands were on his hips while he was in his lap. Sherlock thought he might faint from the pure joy and excitement he currently felt. 

“Victor.”, Sherlock repeated, trying to purr but failing miserably.

It was very sweet that the man was so shy. He could be an arrogant arse because of who he was, but he wasn’t. Not at all. And Sherlock adored him even more because of that.

The music changed and Sherlock just thought to hell with it, and started to move his hips in small sways in Victor’s lap. He had watched the dancers often enough to know how to move seductively. He felt a little unsure in the beginning, trying to judge how Victor would react to it, but when he felt the hands on his hips tighten, he lost all conscious thoughts. It was less dancing, more a moving of hips against the other’s lap, but Sherlock was far from complaining. 

Slowly he leant in, bringing their lips in close proximity of each other. 

“Victor.”, Sherlock whispered, certainly not audible but the elder had definitely felt the breath on his own lips. “Please.”

Victor still was incredibly nervous, but Sherlock didn’t mind. He could see that the man wanted him and that was all that mattered. They were both probably not experienced enough for a one-night-stand but Sherlock wanted to be kissed for the first time in his life.

And Victor complied.

The elder bent forward and pressed their lips together, just gently and for only a couple of seconds, but it was the most thrilling feeling Sherlock had ever experienced. 

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

Victor’s breath hitched as their lips touched, his hands tightened around the lithe body atop him. Resisting had never been a thing in his life, as he had never craved, but now, now it was impossible to resist. 

He pulled away, looking at the sparking eyes of the younger man for a moment. He was beautiful. So beautiful. And so young. 

“A-are you sure... y-you want t-this?”

Sherlock nodded and smiled.

“But there is no rush. I would like to talk to you.” Sherlock frowned at their environment. “Somewhere else though.”

Victor nodded in agreement. 

And then his eyes moved around the room, stopping at the sight of a man at the bar. Mycroft Holmes was looking straight at him. Sherlock’s elder brother. Whose younger brother was barely legal and whom he had just kissed. He was dead. He was so dead.

“Oh my... Y-your brother. S-Sherlock...”

Victor tried to push Sherlock off but the younger was having none of it. 

“He set us up, remember?”

“I...I’m not sure-“

“He offered to pay my next rent in full without me working here if I would go give you a lapdance.”

Oh. That would explain a lot. He was used to people making fun of him. This would have been too good to be true, the younger man wanting him as much as he wanted the other in this moment.

“No. No, Victor, it’s not like that. I would have come over anyways. Remember the drink?”

Victor felt a hand touch his cheek and then his head was tilted slightly upwards. 

“I would like to have a proper conversation with you, if you allow.”

Victor knew that this was a bad idea. This could only be a set-up. The boy couldn’t mean that. Or maybe he meant it but he would figure out soon enough how boring Victor’s life was, and he would turn around faster than Victor could recite the first five elements on the periodic table. 

He wanted to go home. He wanted to take a shower, curl up in bed underneath his duvet and forget all of this.

But did he really want to forget Sherlock?

“I-We c-could go to my f-flat? It’s close?”

That had sounded creepy. They barely knew each other. Sherlock definitely shouldn’t go home with a guy he barely knew. And yet... Victor secretly hoped that he would agree. 

“Sounds good.”

Sherlock crawled off Victor’s lap with a small smirk.

“I’ll just tell Mycroft.”

Victor paled a little at that but Sherlock didn’t seem worried at all.

“It’s okay, Victor. Really. Come. We’ll talk to him now.”

This wasn’t at all what he had had in mind. He couldn’t, he really couldn’t stand another social interaction today. He was so tired already. 

Slowly he rose. Was this day never going to end? Why had he invited the younger to come with him?

$ • $ • $ • $ • $

Sherlock wasn’t good with people. He wasn’t good at reading their emotions off their faces, wasn’t good at see what they were thinking, insulted them constantly - by accident of course. In short, Sherlock liked to dub himself as a sociopath. 

But that wasn’t quite the truth. 

Whereas he really had issues with seeing when he went too far and wanted to show off, he could feel empathy. He could see emotions in people’s eyes, he just chose not to most of the time.

Now, for example, he could clearly see that Victor was so far out of his comfort zone with this whole evening, that he needed something to calm him down or he might suffer a break-down.

“Victor.”

Sherlock put himself close to the older man, looking up at him through his grey eyes. He paitiently waited until Victor looked at his collar bones.

“I’ll just tell my brother that we’re leaving. I can also just walk you home to your flat and then go home too. We don’t have to chat today.”

Sherlock saw a flash of gratefulness on Victor’s face and this assured, he turned towards the bar once more. 

The younger went up to this brother, making sure Victor was following him.

“We’re leaving.”

Mycroft’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say anything. 

“Since it was your idea to set us up in the first place, I suppose you don’t mind.”

Sherlock grinned and went back to Victor, taking his hand in his.

Mycroft smiled slightly and nodded towards Victor. 

“Have fun.”, he said to Sherlock. “And stay safe.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tugged Victor out of the club.

“As if he would know anything about sex.”, he muttered under his breath.

Victor stiffened a little and Sherlock squeezed his hand with a grin.

“Don’t worry, this is not what I have in mind for today. And I don’t think you do either?”

Victor shook his head.

$ • $ • $ • $ • $ 

“Where are we going?”, the younger asked as they reached the outside. 

Victor breathed a sigh of relief. It was dark already and a little cool, which made him calm down even faster, but most importantly, there were no people around.

Apart from the young man holding his hand and looking up at him. 

In the dim light of the surrounding streetlamps, Sherlock’s curls seemed to glow in a strange ethereal way and Victor could only stare for a moment.

Sherlock smiled gently.

“See something you like?”

Victor blushed and turned away but Sherlock tugged at his hand.

“You’re allowed to stare at me. I stared at you for long enough in there.”

Victor couldn’t help himself but blush even more. It was still hard for him to believe that Sherlock was really interested in him, a nerdy Chemist. He was so young and beautiful and could have pretty much any vaguely bisexual guy, Victor was sure of that. 

“I... do you want to come over for a... a tea?”

Sherlock’s smile was radiant. 

“Yes. I’d love to. But only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Victor appreciated the younger’s sensitivity to his feelings. He knew that the other understood his urge, no, his need to be alone. 

“I-I want you there.”

Sherlock grinned and caught Victor’s hand with his.

“Lead the way then.”

Victor’s heart did a double-take as the young man took his hand.


End file.
